A Reel Catch

by Lorraine Bartlett

  Well, at least she was safe. But that broken window in the living room had to be covered so that the cats couldn’t get out. Then again, Kathy had been right. It would be better to pack up a litter box and get the three cats over to Swans Nest until the Sheriff’s Department had gone over the home.

  “I’ll get your breakfast. You can eat it under the bed,” Tori told her girl, hoping that she might use food to coax the cat out. “Be right back,” she told Daisy and climbed back to her feet.

  Kathy was hanging up the phone when she arrived back in the kitchen, and the boys were licking their chops, perfectly content.

  “They’ll send a deputy out as soon as they can. They asked us to vacate the premises.”

  “Just as soon as I get Daisy out from under the bed.”

  “Oh, good. You found her.”

  “Yeah, but she seems pretty terrified. Whoever did this must have scared her silly.”

  “Do you have any theories on who it might have been?” Kathy asked.

  “Oh, yeah. And she is not about to get away with it,” Tori swore.

  26

  No sooner had Tori disappeared to take food to her cat, than the phone rang. Kathy grabbed it, thinking it might be the nine one one dispatcher once again.

  “Where is everybody?” Anissa demanded.

  “Here, obviously,” Kathy answered. “Someone broke into Tori’s house overnight!”

  “What? I’ll be right over,” Anissa said and broke the connection.

  First things first, Kathy thought and headed for the utility room, where they stored the cat carriers and litter boxes. They kept three of the latter, but they’d only take one over to Swans Nest. And where was she going to put the cats? She couldn’t put them in one of the living areas. Cat hair and dander were not conducive to people who might have allergies. The best—the only viable place—she could keep them was in the butler’s pantry. The cats usually got along pretty well, but being cooped up in such a small space wasn’t going to be easy on them—especially poor Daisy who was outnumbered by the bigger and more aggressive boys. The situation was not a good one, but it was temporary, Kathy told herself.

  She’d brought her two carriers into the kitchen and had easily captured Henry, who went into his box rather docilely, but Larry saw his carrier and bolted for the living room. He knew that being confined in the carrier meant a trip to the vet. She was still scrambling to corner the cat when Anissa arrived.

  “What happened?” she demanded, sounding almost as upset as Kathy felt.

  “I haven’t had a chance to check things out. Tori’s in her room trying to grab Daisy. Why don’t you go and help her?”

  Anissa nodded and disappeared, but only for seconds. “There’s a gale blowing through that broken living room window.”

  “We need to secure it so that when we can get back in here, the cats will be safe.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Anissa said and headed out the door. She might not be a cat person, but Kathy knew that Anissa understood what Tori’s and her cats meant to them.

  Once Larry had been confined, Kathy began gathering up bowls and other paraphernalia that the cats would need once they’d been transferred to Swans Nest. She was about to grab the first carrier and take it across the street when Tori emerged from the living room carrying Daisy.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Purring like a happy kitten,” Tori said, sounding relieved. “She ate a little bit, and I managed to grab her. I’d like to take her over to your place before the deputies get here.”

  “Agreed. Anissa is out looking for something to cover that window.”

  “I think there’s some wood paneling in the boathouse. She probably knows what’s out there better than I do.”

  Kathy nodded. “I guess one of us should be here in case the deputies show up.”

  “You stay and I’ll ferry the cats across the road. I won’t feel better until I know they’re settled.”

  “Absolutely,” Kathy agreed.

  As it happened, all three cats were carried across the road and made comfortable in the pantry when Tori returned to the Cannon Compound, and still no one from the Sheriff’s Department had shown up. Apparently, breaking and entering wasn’t considered that uncommon an event in rural Ward County.

  Anissa had covered the broken window, if only to keep the heat in, and had headed off to the hardware store to buy a new piece of glass, saying she’d have it fixed before lunch.

  All that waiting had given Tori more than enough time for her anger to grow to the boiling point, Kathy watched as her roommate paced the kitchen grumbling to herself.

  She sighed and thought about the items she’d assembled that were sitting in the fridge at Swans Nest. They weren’t likely to have breakfast any time soon.

  After way too long, it wasn’t a deputy who finally arrived, but Detective Osborn himself.

  “Since when does a break-in warrant Osborn’s attention?” Tori asked as they watched the detective get out of his unmarked car.

  “Since I may have directly asked for him to come,” Kathy admitted. “After all, we still need to give him that Valentine’s Day card we found in Mark Charles’s cabin.”

  They invited the detective inside.

  “You shouldn’t even be in here,” the man chided. “It’s a crime scene.”

  “What were we supposed to do? Stand outside and freeze?” Tori demanded.

  “If you’ve been in every room, then you’ve contaminated any evidence that may have been there.”

  “We had our cats to think about—which we’ve relocated to my house across the street until we can secure this one,” Kathy asserted.

  “Cats, schmats,” Osborn groused. Nevertheless, he left the kitchen to poke around the rest of the house. When he returned a few minutes later, he took out a notebook. “Tell me about it.”

  Tori related how her cousin had violated her privacy a week before and then had shown up the previous day. Osborn wasn’t impressed.

  “Means nothing. Unless you’ve got an eyewitness, it’s just hearsay.”

  “Well, somebody broke into my house!” Tori almost shouted.

  “What could your cousin be looking for?”

  “I don’t know. But she’s jealous that my grandfather let me have this property. He won the lottery last year and hasn’t given any of my other relatives a nickel. They’re a jealous lot.”

  Kathy studied her friend’s face. She knew it had taken a lot for Tori to admit that fact.

  “The items that are broken were things I’ve treasured most of my life, and now they’re ruined.”

  “But what’s the monetary loss?” Osborn persisted.

  “Not much,” Tori admitted, her cheeks growing pink.

  “It looks like malicious mischief to me,” Osborn said. “It may surprise you to know that most homes are burgled during daylight hours. Still, your burglar is probably just a teenaged boy. That’s what usually happens. You might want to make some security upgrades. Like motion-activated lights around the outside of the house. Get a sign that says Beware Of Dog.” He put the notebook away without writing down a thing. “Now where’s this evidence regarding Charles Marks?”

  “If I can go back in the office, I’ll get it,” Kathy said.

  Osborn didn’t object, so she trundled off to the very messy office.

  Kathy had left the card in a manila file folder on the side of her desk, under a pile of magazines, but when she searched through the contents on the littered floor, she didn’t come up with it. Her anxiety began to mount as she started stacking items on the desks and chairs, but could not find the folder.

  Finally, she shuffled back to the kitchen, where Tori was still ranting about Amber.

  When she got the opportunity to interrupt, Kathy said, “It’s gone.”

  “What?” Tori asked.

  “The folder the card was in is gone, along with that list of telephone numbers Mark Charles had hidden.”

  Osborn looked annoyed. �
�You said you had the evidence since last Tuesday. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “We were busy,” Kathy offered lamely.

  “I don’t suppose you thought to make a copy of the card.”

  “As a matter of fact, we did,” Kathy said.

  “And where is it?”

  Tori looked sheepish. “I gave it to Lucinda Bloomfield.”

  “Why in hell would you do that?” Osborn bellowed.

  “Because she offered to help me financially. I thought it was the least I could do in light of her generosity.” Tori explained about the Shepherd Enterprises proposal and that Lucinda had asked to counter it.

  “When did you give her the copy?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “I assume you know what her relationship was with Charles Marks.”

  “We know he was accused of raping her.”

  “Did you know that one of the men who beat up Charlie Marks before his disappearance was Lucinda Bloomfield’s butler, Ronnie Collins?”

  By the look on his face, Osborn hadn’t been aware of that fact. Still, he ignored the information. “That card could have proved to be a motive for revenge—for murder,” he said sternly.

  “I left the copy with her because I like her,” Tori said. “Just go up the road and ask her for it.”

  “You like her—but do you trust her?” Osborn asked.

  Kathy saw the look of indecision on her friend’s face.

  “I think so. I have no reason to doubt her sincerity.”

  The word “yet” seemed to hover in the ether. The three of them looked at each other for long seconds. Osborn spoke first.

  “I’ll go speak with Ms. Bloomfield, and then I’ll get back to you.”

  “Should we clean up? I mean, maybe the card is still in the office buried under something,” Kathy said, hoping she might be right.

  “Go ahead,” Osborn agreed. “There’s nothing else the Sheriff’s Department can do here.” He sounded distinctly annoyed.

  Without another word, the detective turned and exited the kitchen, the door slamming behind him.

  “He seems a tad upset,” Kathy offered.

  “Pissed off, more like it. Was it a bad decision to show that card to Lucinda?” Tori asked.

  “I know you want to trust her, but … maybe that wasn’t the most prudent decision.”

  Tori’s frown bordered on profound. “Is it wrong to want to think the best of people?”

  “Absolutely not,” Kathy affirmed. And yet…. According to Don Newton, Lucinda Bloomfield was a slumlord. She detested “trade.” Tori’s bait shop could definitely be considered trade located at the bottom of Resort Road, which Lucinda’s family had long wanted to be gentrified, probably to increase the neighborhood’s property values. Did she own more on Resort Road than just the mansion on the hill? Had she intimidated other owners on the road to sell to her like she’d tried to do with Anissa’s farther? Mr. Jackson had told his daughter in no uncertain terms that he felt bullied by the Bloomfields to sell. Stubborn old cuss that he was, he had refused. At first, Anissa had wondered if Lucinda had been behind her father’s death, but in the end, it had been something—and someone—much more sinister.

  The sound of tires on the compound’s gravel drive caused the women to look up and through the window on the home’s front door. Anissa had arrived, presumably with the replacement glass for the broken window. They left the house.

  Anissa got out of her truck. “I’ve got everything I need to fix that window.”

  “Thank you,” Tori said, sounding grateful.

  “It’ll take me all of twenty minutes—maybe half an hour. Do you think by then I can finally have something to eat?”

  Kathy forced a smile. “You better believe it. But I don’t have anything that’s lunch worthy. Are you still willing to eat breakfast?”

  “I’m about ready to eat my foot,” Anissa declared.

  Kathy laughed. “I promise, you won’t have to do that.”

  “Then let me get working on this window.”

  “Um, we’ve got some other stuff to tell you,” Tori admitted.

  “Do it while I work. And Kath, go on back to Swans Nest and start getting my breakfast—or lunch—ready.”

  “Will do,” Kathy said. “Tor, if Anissa is done before the detective gets back, leave him a note to tell him where we are.”

  “Will do,” Tori promised, and accompanied Anissa to the side of the house.

  Kathy headed back toward Swans Nest, figuring she might have four to cook for—depending on if Detective Osborn returned before Anissa fixed the window. Feeding the man might actually make him a little more friendly.

  And if not … well, she’d deal with whatever situation presented itself.

  She really had no other choice.

  27

  Anissa had just smoothed out the last of the putty and replaced the storm window when Osborn’s vehicle pulled into the Cannon Compound’s lot once again. As he got out of his car, Tori could see that the deputy was not pleased.

  “And?” she prompted.

  Osborn walked slowly toward her. “Ms. Bloomfield looked at me with innocent blue eyes and said she didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.”

  “Excuse me?” Tori challenged.

  “You heard me. She said she didn’t have any knowledge about a Valentine’s Day card and suggested I go back to the source and ask for a better explanation. So, I’m asking.”

  Tori’s anger blossomed once again. “Kathy found the card in Mark Charles’s cabin when we were cleaning it out—after the Sheriff’s Department had already gone through the place. Knowing Charlie Marks had disappeared after a parking lot brawl behind a bar, after allegedly raping Ms. Bloomfield, we thought it might be evidence.”

  “You couldn’t have thought hard enough about it to wait five days to let me know of its existence.”

  “That was a mistake,” Tori acknowledged. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that we found it and always intended to turn it over to you. The card said, ‘Charlie, luv you always, Lucinda.’ Ms. Bloomfield studied the copy I gave her and her expression told me that she recognized the writing as her own.”

  “Well, she didn’t admit it to me,” Osborn said. “As far as I—and the Ward County Sheriff’s Department—am concerned, it’s your word against hers.”

  Tori glared at the detective.

  He glared back.

  “What about my house? Someone trashed it. Aren’t you going to at least make a report?”

  “I’ll send a deputy to do that.”

  “Thank you,” Tori managed, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  Osborn turned and returned to his car.

  Anissa joined Tori and they watched as the law officer started the engine, backed out of the lot, and drove off.

  “That man is cold,” Anissa commented.

  Tori said nothing, afraid of what she might say.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Tori looked toward Resort Road. “I’m going to go to that woman’s house and confront her.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Tori turned to face her friend. “Have you got a better one?”

  Anissa shook her head. “Do you want some backup?”

  Tori let out a breath. “I think I can handle this by myself.”

  Digging into her jeans pocket, Tori removed her keys, walked over to her truck, and got in. Then she drove to the Bloomfield mansion.

  Once again, Tori parked in front of the big house at the top of Resort Road. She marched up to the big front door and pounded on it.

  She waited for at least thirty seconds—which she counted off in her head—before she pounded once again. It took another twenty seconds (one Mississippi, two Mississippi) before the door opened and Collins once again stood before her.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see Ms. Bloomfield.”

  “I’m sorry, she isn’t available.”

/>   “Excuse me, Detective Osborn of the Ward County Sheriff’s Department was here not ten minutes ago and she sure as hell was available to see him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Collins said again and went to close the door, but Tori stuck her foot over the threshold and he wasn’t able to shut it.

  “She will see me, and if she doesn’t, I guarantee she will be very, very sorry she didn’t.”

  Collins seemed to size her up. “I will inquire if Madam is available.”

  “Yeah. You do just that, Ronnie,” Tori said contemptuously.

  Collins’s eyes widened and he did not seem pleased, but his training and years of service didn’t allow him to show much more. He opened the door and allowed her to enter, leaving her standing there as he left her and ventured deeper into the house.

  Tori shifted her weight from one foot to another, fuming, not sure what she was going to say to the lady of the house. Lady? She wasn’t at all sure Lucinda deserved that title after blatantly lying to Detective Osborn. A lady should be a person of honor. Perhaps the locals had been right. Perhaps she was nothing more than a slumlord who took advantage of people with no other options, who forced them from their crappy rental properties when they were down on their luck and unable to pay.

  Perhaps Lucinda was the bitch everyone thought her to be.

  The bitch in question appeared from a door at the end of the hall and seemed to glide to the foyer. “Ms. Cannon,” she said in greeting.

  “Oh, so we’re no longer on friendly terms, Ms. Bloomfield?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Let’s not fence,” Tori practically spat. “Why did you tell Detective Osborn you knew nothing about the Valentine’s Day card?”

  Lucinda’s features remained immobile, but she at least had the grace to blush. For a moment Tori wasn’t sure Lucinda would answer, but then she seemed to remember her manners.

  “Won’t you come inside?”

  “I think we can say what we need to right here,” Tori said.

  Lucinda frowned. “Very well.” She paused, as though to compose her thoughts.

  “That card brought back a lot of unpleasant memories of a very unhappy time in my life.”